Saturday 2nd May 2009

I awake early after another anxiety ridden dream in which I arrive at the apiary visit to find that I have forgotten to bring B and C's bee suits. I spend the rest of the visit avoiding them, which is easy because most of the day is spend watching a film in an enormous cinema. I then notice John down in the foyer, with James. He was supposed to have been visiting his daughter, so I am surprised to see them there. I rush down and tell him that he has to go straight home for the suits. He says that he has had an argument with his daughter, I ask if it was a bad one, and he says she was venomous. Golly - I guess I am more nervous than I thought! My step-daughter is the loveliest person you could meet, and doesn't have an ounce of venom in her body, so it's a bit unfair of my subconscious to do that to her.
Anyway - I rush out, still in jammies and put the box of suits and gloves into the car, just in case. John and James are, in fact, going to visit step-daughter, who lives in town with her family, and are dropping me off at the university on the way.
The weather is glorious, and the setting, on the leafy outskirts of Edinburgh is beautiful. We drive around the campus a bit, looking for the apiary and then spot a couple of space suited figures. Guessing that they could either be from the astrophysics department, or beekeepers, we head in that direction. Good guess - I recognise everyone, and find B waiting for her suit - C arrives a few moment later, and we all climb, giggling into our outfits, wondering if it should be wellies in or out of the trouser legs. Big Al, who knows all these things reckons on inside.
As we approach the apiary we have to pass inspection by F, who is required by all those university health and safety protocols to ensure the safety of all visitors. Then it begins. We are split into 2 groups, F leading ours, and the first task is lighting the smoker - a very important part of beekeeping equipment. F uses a few sheets from The Scotsman and a handful of wood shavings. The point is to get plenty of cool smoke - you don't want to torch your bees, but at the same time, you don't want your smoker to go out when you have the hive in pieces. The smoke makes the bees think their hive is threatened by fire, so they fill up on honey, and this makes them feel good and a bit drowsy, so they are less likely to sting. I wonder why it makes them drowsy - if I thought my house was burning, I don't think I would feel relaxed about it!
Anyway, my adrenalin rises as F hands me the smoker, with the instructions to keep pumping it every 15 seconds or so to stop it going out. I am almost overwhelmed by the responsibility, and have to hurry to catch up with the group as they head for a hive, squeezing assiduously as I go.
The main object of today's session is to see how to open a hive and to get to handle the frames. F is very good at explaining what she is doing while working and soon we are all gasping in wonder as she holds up a brood frame, pointing out pollen, honey capped and uncapped brood, and we crowd round to find the queen, marked with a green dot. The mysterious inner workings of a bee colony revealed, and suddenly, all I have learned so far begins to make sense.
I am not sure if it is because I impressed her by keeping the smoker alight so well, but F turns to me and says -" Do you want to take the next one out?" Nervously I take the hive tool - another indespensable item - and gingerly lift out the frame indicated. I feel clumsy in the gloves, but as hold the frame up and look at it, I feel a sense of calm. It is not as frantic as I expected, and it feels such a mindful and serene experience. The beekeeper has to be calm, measured and purposeful when handling the bees and show them utmost respect. Zen and the art of beekeeping. Of course, in this climate it is good to be quick as well as mindful, and the bees begin to headbutt us in protest, so we close up the hive. We walk away, brushing stray bees from each other, still amazed by what we have seen. Bees can sting you in more than one way!